


A King Of The Road

by TheWeepingRaven



Series: Don't Fear The Reaper [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fights, Gen, Gun Violence, Harry Potter is Thomas Teller I, Illegal Activities, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Multiple Crossovers, Original Teller Children, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Recreational Drug Use, Reincarnated Harry Potter, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeepingRaven/pseuds/TheWeepingRaven
Summary: Thomas "Tommy" Teller has always felt different. Memories that don't make sense constantly plague him of a boy named Harry Potter. He's his mother's miracle, since he survived from what was supposed to be certain death of a congenital heart defect. He takes his responsibility as a Full Patched member of SAMCRO with the seriousness it deserves. However, Thomas is discontent with his life. With danger surrounding him from all sides, he begins to lose himself in the life of the Club and the family he's made for himself. Can he remain who he is? Or will he lose himself to the life of the Club?
Relationships: Clay Morrow/Gemma Teller Morrow, Gemma Teller Morrow & Thomas Teller I, Jax Teller & Thomas Teller I, Jax Teller/Original Female Character(s), Juice Ortiz & Jax Teller, Juice Ortiz & Thomas Teller I, Past Jax Teller/Wendy Case, Past Thomas Teller I/Original Female Character(s), Tara Knowles/Jax Teller, Thomas Teller I/Juice Ortiz, Thomas Teller I/Original Female Character(s), Thomas Teller I/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Don't Fear The Reaper [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840903
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. The Ending For A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a short chapter, but the next one won't take long before it's up and ready. This story is from my other account on Fanfiction.Net, but it is an updated version, as I wasn't happy with the older version. 
> 
> The idea of Thomas "Tommy" Teller living and having a part in the story (meaning the TV series) has plagued me since I've been watching the Sons of Anarchy off and on lately. How different would it be? If Tommy Teller survived what should have killed him when he was a child? Then I asked the question, what if Harry Potter was Tommy Teller but he just didn't realize it yet? And so I began this remake of From the Ashes and I hope everyone else enjoys it as a much as I did when I began making ideas for this story.
> 
> Also, Harry Potter characters will have an appearance in the SOA universe, if anyone was curious.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. XD

**May 2nd, 1998**

It was a heady feeling, Harry Potter realizes as he sits atop the broken and derelict steps of the once beautiful school he attended. He looks around with a numbness of shock and disbelief, at all of the bodies that decorates Hogwarts lawn. So much pointless death, he muses with a shake of his head, and all for a pointless cause. So many had died, for a war that should have never existed in the first place. This war should have been handled earlier and by adults. Instead, it was decided that children would finish the war. A sneer of disgust curls his lips at the thought of the incompetence that pertained to the adults within the Wizarding World.

Harry carefully pushes himself up from his seat on the uncomfortable stone steps. His arm wraps around his stomach, as it gives a painful twinge. He knows he's bleeding inside, likely from when he had been tossed backwards into a wall, during the bloody battle. For the last two years, it was a Gruellia warfare with young teenage witches and wizards against adult dark witches and wizards. It had been such a pointless war. What had been the point of it all? He wonders as he walks slowly through the quiet and war torn castle. Corpses lay scattered among the stone flooring, some buried beneath ruble, while others torn apart by dark curses, among various other methods to kill.

Bright green eyes merely scan the hallways and carefully walk around the fallen bodies and rubble. Determined steps walk through the halls of Hogwarts, heading towards the Headmaster's office. Harry can feel the watching eyes of portraits and Ghosts as he makes his way ever closer to the office. Back in the Great Hall, he has left those still alive and wounded behind. He doesn't plan to stick around for much longer. He doesn't want to continue to stay here. He has a chance, he now knows from his conversation with Death, in his momentary stay in the In-Between.

Harry has already handled his Last Will and Testament, he's handled everything that needed to be handled. He was so very tired. He can feel his body yearning for sleep and rest. He forcefully makes his way down the last hallway, and he can see the Headmaster's office statue. Just a little longer, he reminds himself. You're almost there. The encouraging words are the only reason that Harry was able to make it to the Gargoyle. A bloody hand raises to the dirty statue, smearing his blood across it, forcing the Gargoyle to jump aside and allow him entrance.

He moves forward and steps onto the moving staircase. Harry leans against the wall, his head tilting back against the stone, as his eyes slip cross without his permission. The staircase jolts to a stop, stirring Harry awake from his light doze. He takes the three long strides to get to the double wooden doors and shoves them roughly open, uncaring of the loud bang it makes as the doors slam into the walls behind them.

"Harry, my boy." Albus Dumbledore's portrait says in surprise from where it hangs on the wall. The late Headmaster falls quiet at the dark look Harry sends his way. Shock is expressed on his painted face, not that Harry cares.

The seventeen-year-old limps his way to the Pensieve and the memories that Severus Snape gave him. The last thing he needs to do is get rid of the memories. His Invisibility Cloak, the Elder Wand, and the Stone, are on his person and will disappear once he is gone too. Everything else he has handled or gotten rid of. The last thing he has is the memories. "Excindo," he murmurs once he has the vials in his hand.

The late Headmasters, including Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, watch as the memories are seemingly destroyed or demolished. "What are you doing Potter?" Severus Snape asks with a squinty eyed glare at the younger man.

Harry Potter smiles as he takes a seat on the steps leading back down from the Pensieve. He leans against the archway and his eyes slide shut as he breathes in and out slowly. "I'm dying of course, Professor," he murmurs into the quiet of the room.

Severus Snape's portrait watches with a sadness and regret he has carried with him since he made the mistake of initially joining Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He has failed in many ways, in how he handled many things in his life, but his greatest regret is how he dealt with the Potter child. It was only after his death, that Severus had realized Harry Potter was so much more like his mother than he was ever his father.

"Rest Potter, you deserve it." Severus Snape's portrait replies. He glares darkly at Albus Dumbledore's portrait, when the man goes to open his mouth and say something demeaning, Snape assumes. It isn't like the former Headmaster ever had good intentions regarding Lily's son.

The other former Headmaster's remain quiet in their vigil as they watch the Hero of the Wizarding World give his last raspy breath, before his chest stilled.

Harry Potter was off onto his next great adventure.


	2. Those Unlucky Few

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize is there's any grammar or punctuation errors in this chapter. I reread it as much as I could before I decided it's ready to be posted. 
> 
> This chapter begins about a six days before the Pilot episode of Son's of Anarchy. I am making Abel Teller' birthday August 28th, 2008, since we don't know his exact birthday and I don't want to base it on the day that the Pilot aired. I'll try to keep this story like the show, but it will obviously be different with Tommy alive. So there will be original child characters and past relationships that didn't happen in the show for Jax and Tommy obviously. 
> 
> Also, I made Jax's birthday April 10th, 1977 and Tommy's birthday is obviously January 8th, 1984. So there's a seven year difference between the Teller brother's. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter and thanks for reading it.

**Charming, California**

**Friday, August 22nd, 2008**

“I suppose you’re just going to sleep the day away?” The demanding and domineering voice of Gemma Teller Morrow echoes in the once quiet master bedroom of her youngest son’s home. She was expecting him to be at her home for breakfast, almost an hour ago, like they discussed the day previously. When Tommy didn’t arrive at the designated time, she had decided to call him, which she did numerous times, but every time the phone went to voicemail. Gemma, after long frustrating minutes of calling her youngest son, finally packed up the rest of the breakfast casserole she had made, and drove over to his home. 

The once tranquil silence of morning shatters as Thomas “Tommy” Teller groans when the voice of his mother reaches him through his dream, or was it a nightmare? He can’t honestly tell anymore, not with how odd these dreams, or nightmares at times, are. It’s definitely a first to experience dying in a dream again. It surprisingly felt a lot like falling asleep. These dreams or nightmares, or whatever they’re called, aren’t frequent. He could go days, weeks, or even months without a single strange dream to bother his life. Then for days, or longer, he’ll be inflicted with these odd dreams and nightmares. He feels like he’s slowly losing his mind. He doesn’t understand why he’s having these dreams of magic and a war between two factions. It isn’t like it’s real or that like he actually lived that...right? Magic didn’t exist. 

_ There is no such thing as magic _ , he thinks to himself, but it’s not in his voice when the words seemingly echo in his mind. Rather, it sounds like a large angry man. It honestly sounds a lot like his older neighbor up the street. Bernard “Bernie” Hooper is an old man who is swimming in the tidewater of his seventh decade. He’s weary, mean and cranky. He is also surprisingly agile for his age. Too many times Tommy has watched him lean on his walking cane as he meanders down the walkway to his mailbox with his shuffling gait and gnarled hands. But once the neighborhood kids got him going? The old man can be quick in both movement and swinging his walking stick. 

Tommy groans again at having to think when exhaustion clings to his body like shadows. He buries his head beneath the pillow he is laying on, and attempts to block out the brilliant yellow glow of sunlight filtering in through the bedroom windows. Now that his blackout curtains are no longer keeping the light at bay, thanks to his oh so kind and loving mother, he won’t be able to get back to sleep for much longer, but he can sure as fuck try. 

He also tries to ignore his mother’s voice. Something he wasn’t expecting to hear so early in the morning. He had thought, once he no longer lived with her, that he wouldn’t have to deal with her insistent need to get into his personal and professional business. That isn’t saying anything about his love for his mother, just that her desire to control or bud into everything that went on in his and Jax’s life is frustrating. He is twenty-four-years-old and his mother still believes that she has a say in what he does in his life.  _ I shouldn’t have given her a key to the house _ , he muses with a yawn,  _ if I hadn’t, she would have just stolen it anyways and made a copy _ , he reminds himself as he rolls onto his back and rubs roughly at his face as he tosses the pillow aside. 

That’s just the sort of woman his mother is. Gemma Teller Morrow is a force to be reckoned with. She has no qualms in telling you what she thinks. She doesn’t give a damn if it hurts your feelings either. Not if it means she gets her point across. Of course, this is something he and Jax are well aware of. Their mother can be a Mama Bear when it comes to them. If she even thinks someone, particularly a girl they were or are dating or married to, has hurt them emotionally, mentally, or even physically, Gemma is enemy number one towards them. If she doesn’t think said girl is good enough for them? Their mother takes great enjoyment in making their lives a living hell. Their mother is definitely something else when it comes to Tommy and Jax, and especially her grandchildren. 

“Ma,” he mutters into his hands with groans. His voice is muffled by his palms covering his mouth and nose, “what are ya doin’ here?” 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” she replies as she begins to pick up the dirty clothes that lay scattered on Tommy’s bedroom floor.  _ If it wasn’t for me _ , Gemma thinks to herself,  _ Tommy’s house would be a pigsty _ . She tosses the pile of clothes in her hands into the laundry basket by the door. She will clean the bedroom first, then she’ll move onto the laundry and the rest of the house. It is a duty as the mother of her sons, and grandmother to Tommy and Jax’s children, that she makes sure their houses stay clean. 

“We were supposed to have breakfast together with Riley and Harley before school,” she reminds him with a raised eyebrow. “But you didn’t come to the house or let me know you weren’t going to make it.” Gemma says with her notorious disappointed tone in her voice. “Riley was extremely upset that his Uncle Tommy didn’t come and Harley didn’t understand why her Uncle Tommy wasn’t there to take her to Pre-School. Since you promised to drive them today,” she adds as she grabs more dirty clothes from the hamper. 

Gemma understands that her son’s have a life, but shouldn’t a mother get the chance to spend some time with her boys every once in a while? Was it too much for them to keep their promises? Was it too much to ask for them to pick up a phone and let her know when they can’t make it to a predetermined get together? She didn’t think she was expecting too much from her boys. 

“Shit,” he mutters as he raises himself up off the bed and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. “What time is it?” Tommy awakens his phone and looks at the time displayed on the screen. It was a quarter to 8. “Fuck,” he curses as he stumbles out of his bed, tossing his comforter to the side in a careless heap, and stands in nothing but his black boxer briefs. He’s not ashamed of his muscular physique, as it’s been commonly remarked upon, particularly by females, and some males in Tommy’s case, that he and his older brother are similar in both height, build, and muscles. While it’s nice to be appreciated, Tommy gets real tired of being compared with Jax all the time. 

It also isn’t like his mother hasn’t seen him in worse states than just wearing boxer briefs. He still can’t look her in the eyes whenever they pass by Nirvana. The last thing any teenager wants is for their mother to find them in a nightclub’s private room. Jax, the fucker, still won’t let him live it down. Every chance he gets to embarrass Tommy, Jax takes it with a gleeful little snicker. It was his brother’s and the Club's fault to begin with that he had been at the Nightclub, but did Jax or Opie care?  _ No _ . Instead they relished in bringing  _ that _ particularly embarrassing story up when they decided they’re feeling  _ maudlin.  _

_ The lying assholes,  _ he thinks to himself as he stumbles over to his desk chair at the corner of the room. “Sorry Ma,” he apologizes like the good son he can be. “I didn’t purposely miss out on breakfast and I didn’t mean to miss out on taking Riley and Harley to school.” Tommy adds as he rubs his face groggily. He’s still tired as fuck and wishes he was still in bed, but it’s a good thing his mother stopped by when she did. He had forgotten to set an alarm. “I’ll make time to hang out with them. Maybe I’ll take all the kids out for a day at the beach or something,” he says with a yawn. 

He quickly grabs a pair of dark blue jeans off the back of the desk chair and slips them on and buttons and zips them up. “I was up all night lookin’ into somethin’ for the Club.” Tommy says as he grabs a white fitted white beater that he slips on, followed by a dark blue and black checkered, long sleeved, button up shirt. His SAMCRO black leather Kutte, with all his Patches, follows. White socks are tugged onto his feet before he slips them into his black biker boots and ties the laces. 

“It’s alright baby,” she says as she watches her youngest son with pride. Both of her boys are someone important within SAMCRO. A mother couldn’t have been prouder if they tried, over their children’s success. This is all she ever dreamed for her children. For Jax to one day be President and Tommy being Vice President or Sergeant-at-Arms. At the moment, Tommy is a Road Captain, and in charge of the Sweepers, who ensure other riders are safe during a multiple-bike ride. “You can make it up to me by coming to the family dinner tonight.” Gemma replies as she picks up the last of her son’s dirty clothes and drops it into the laundry basket. 

“Right, I’ll be there.” Tommy has missed the last couple of family dinners. He’s been generally busy with work and Club business. When not busy with work, or the Club, he’s been dealing with his extremely frustrating and pampered first ex-wife Mattie. Who even after not being married for the last four years, still likes to try and make his life miserable. 

Then there’s his second ex-wife, who he had met in Vegas, when he was stopping, with a few of his SAMCRO boys with him, to gain an alliance with the SAMNOV Charter. Tommy had been pleasantly buzzed from an array of drugs and booze, having spent time with his fellow bikers at Tombstone Bar. This gain of an alliance had been cause for celebration, and a celebration they had. As evening turned to night, and the darker it got, the crazier the party became. 

That’s where he met Eliza, who turned out to be a manipulative and spiteful bitch. She was a short-termed second wife, who he hasn’t seen in the last couple of weeks, and he’s thankful for it. Although it  _ does _ make him wonder what she’s up to, since Eliza is persistent and vindictive and takes great enjoyment in torturing him. 

Honestly, he and Eliza had only been married to each other for fifteen months before he had to finally call it quits. That had been almost two years ago, and he ended up with a son stuck in the middle of a messy divorce. If there is ever a woman that could drive him up the wall, as bad as his first wife had, he had found it in Eliza. 

The icing on the fucked up relationship department, was his one-night stand, Scarlett. Now she has some screws loose in her head. He knew he shouldn’t have stuck his dick in crazy, but he hadn’t know she was a fucking nutcase until after the fact. Crow Eaters generally aren’t in his best interest, as his two ex-wives  _ clearly  _ showed. But when a girl like Scarlett, with a nice ass and great boobs, showed interest? He wasn't exactly going to refuse her. Although he should have, now that he’s stuck with a crazy stalker declaring he's the father of her kid. He damn well knows he’s not the only person that fucked her within the time period the kid could have been conceived. Until he’s shown proof that he’s the father, he wants nothing to do with her. 

It makes Tommy question,  _ quite often _ , if the Teller’s are cursed in regards to relationships. They tend to get the shit end of a relationship, like Tommy’s ex-wives and his crazy one night stand. There’s also Jax’s string of failed relationships. First there was his ex-girlfriend Tara, who had left him behind to go to college. The second was Jax’s first ex-wife Lexi, who he met a couple years after Tara left him. Lexi had left him after learning her mother was sick with cancer, and left their son and daughter behind with Jax, while she moved across the country to help take care of her ill mother. The third failed relationship Jax had is his second ex-wife Wendy, a drug addict who's currently pregnant with his third kid. 

At least he and Jax haven’t permanently lost their spouse, even if they are exes, like Gemma did with his father John. These string of failed relationships still make Tommy wonder if Teller’s are meant to have happy and healthy relationships with their spouses. Maybe they’re destined for failed and unhappy relationships. 

Tommy shoves the reminiscent thoughts away. It’s too early to be thinking deep thoughts, and grabs his phone off the bed and slides it into his jeans pocket. He walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, as he uses the toilet, brushes his teeth, and splashes water over his face. He’s supposed to meet Jax in thirty minutes to discuss what he discovered the night before. He opens the bathroom door and looks over at his mother, from where he stands in the bathroom, and watches her in exasperation as she picks up the laundry basket. “You don’t need to do that Ma,” he says with a shake of his head. 

“When are you ever going to have the time?” Gemma questions rhetorically. He concedes to his mother as the pair leave the master bedroom and walk into the hallway of his home. “You need to talk to your brother,” she begins with very little segue to this sudden change in conversation. 

“Why do I need to talk to Jax?” He replies as they walk down the hallway towards the front of the house. They past the bedrooms, three of which are for his kids, while the other two are guest rooms. 

Gemma turns to look at her youngest son and feels a strong surge of pride for him. She loves her sons, and she can never express just how thankful she is that Tommy survived all those years ago. Gemma is very happy that he overcame that damned Teller curse and has lived to become this handsome young man. For so long, they thought he would die, but then he got better, and had a surgery that helped his heart. 

While she adores her boys, it doesn’t stop her from ensuring her sons are following the right path, and Jax currently seems to be steering away from it, but he won’t speak to her about it. “He’s going to be a daddy again. He must be out of his mind with worry,” she says to Tommy as she stops at the laundry room that leads out to the garage. She’s not saying it’s not a real concern, because they all know it is, especially when it’s that Crank Whore carrying the baby. “That’s something you can help him with. You’re a good daddy, uncle, and brother Tommy. Help ease your brother’s anxiety.” 

Tommy sighs and rubs the bristly hair atop his head slowly. At least he knows Jax won’t find the manuscript their father wrote. Tommy had found it when he was seventeen-years-old, and was searching through the storage locker to find some baby things for his and Jax’s kid. Jax had been busy with Lexi at the time, setting up their kid’s nursery, and asked him to look through the unit for him. Tommy did so, and that’s when he found the manuscript, The Life and Death of Sam Crow: How the Sons of Anarchy Lost Their Way. 

He had read through it all and then he had burned it, followed by tossing the burned remains into the dumpster to be taken to the garage dump. He’s never told Gemma or Jax about what he found and read. His father John, he had discovered, began writing the journal after nearly losing Tommy, and had completed it on March 15th, 1993. After reading through it all, Tommy saw his father's idea of the club more as a hippie/biker commune, rather than a gun-running operation. The manuscript had pointed out what the club started as, and how it went wrong. 

He doesn’t plan on telling Jax anything he read. He isn’t going to let Jax or himself become consumed with their dead fathers ideals. Not when it ended up getting his father killed for it. He’ll talk to Jax, and see what was on his mind. “Yeah Ma, I’ll talk to Jax, and while we’re at it, we’ll gossip about the girls we like, and share our feelings while braiding our hair” he replies sarcastically. “Since we share our feelings and concerns  _ all _ the time,” he adds in a snarky tone of voice. 

Gemma glares at her youngest son as she lifts her right hand from the basket she’s holding and smacks him hard against the back of his head. “Don’t be an asshole,” she snaps. 

Tommy winces and rubs the back of his shaved head. Yeah, he sort of deserved that. 

“You need to be there for your brother and not let your failed fucked up relationships get in the way of family.” Gemma says sternly as she jabs a pointing finger into Tommy’s chest. “If your Preppy Bitch of an ex-wife wasn’t causing you trouble, you would be seeing your kids more too. Now you have your  _ second failed marriage _ to deal with and gain custody of that boy before that dumbass bitch kills him. Then there’s that  _ other _ Skanky Bitch bringing drama around saying you're her baby daddy after a one night stand.” Gemma remarks with aggravation as she lists Tommy’s horrible choices in women. “Deal with your ex-wives and handle this  _ girl _ . If that baby is yours, it’ll be better off in your custody than  _ hers _ ,” she says scornfully. 

Gemma had never liked Tommy’s first ex-wife Matilda “Mattie” Whitney, even if she  _ is _ the daughter of Thomas “Uncle Tom” Whitney. That little preppy witch bitch had had her son by the balls, and she had known it too. Nothing anyone said to Tommy had changed his mind. For four fucking years, Gemma had to deal with the petty little bitch as a daughter-in-law. The only thing she had been good for, is giving her grandbabies. Finally, Tommy came to his senses when he caught the little whore fucking someone else. 

Unfortunately, during the divorce, the judge “awarded” joint custody. It was a fucking joke. Mattie Whitney couldn’t take care of herself, let alone four children. Now, her son’s second little ex-bitch he’s dealing with is dropped off the face of the Earth with his son, leading Tommy to have to go looking for her. Then there’s Scarlett, or Ruby as she’s known within the sex industry, who Tommy had a one night stand with, and then kept  _ accidentally _ , just the thought makes Gemma sneer in disgust, running into her. That’s when the little bint told Tommy she was pregnant and that the baby is his. 

Gemma knows she didn’t raise a dumbass and that her son uses protection with one night stands, and that he couldn’t possibly be the father, unless the little harpy trapped her son somehow. If that is that case? Gemma will handle the slut and ensure she stops bothering her son. 

“I’m workin’ on it Ma,” Tommy replies as he kisses her check before turning to leave his home. “I’ll stop by Mattie and Eliza’s places this afternoon,” he says reassuringly as he steps out the front door. It slams shut behind him, leaving Gemma frowning with a glare. The sound of his motorcycle roaring to life has her shaking her head. He better look into those little whores places, or she’ll be kicking his ass. 

**Charming, California**

**Teller-Morrow**

Tommy pulls into the automotive garage of his family owned business, utilized for Sam Crow. Similarly, there are various other businesses that they use for SAMCRO. Most of these locations are owned by family members of the Reaper Crew. Many of them are children of the First 9, who followed their father’s footsteps. Or they’re sisters, wives, and children of Club members who own these establishments. Some are friends of Tommy, people he grew up with in Charming, and helped loan the money to create these shops. Never let it be said that Tommy isn’t generous, especially not when it benefits him. 

“How the hell am I supposed to fix it if I can’t see inside the car?” Tommy’s bright blue eyes look to see Chibs shaking his head in amusement at the Prospect Half-Sack, who stood shaking his head in stunned disbelief at the amount of trash that littered the inside of the car. 

His black and dark green Harley Davidson rumbles for one final moment, before he shuts it off. “That’s a shitload of trash,” he remarks as he swings his leg over the bike so he can stand beside it. He unbuckles his helmet, something he wears only sparingly, and sets it in the bag at the side of his bike. 

“Aye, and dipshit get tah clean it up before he can get ta fixin’ it.” Chibs replies with a smirk curling his lips as he glances over at the younger man. “He’s in tha chapel,” he says with a nod of greeting. 

“Thanks man.” Tommy nods and smirks once again at Half-Sack who still seems mind boggled by the amount of trash that could fit in one car. He walks a short distance to the Clubhouse and steps inside to the sound of noise. He nods greetings and calls out sarcastic remarks to fellow club members as he makes his way back towards the Chapel. He doesn’t wait for admittance, as he has a place at the table, and steps into the room, to see that Tig and Bobby have also just arrived. 

“Nice of you to finally join us.” Clay remarks to his youngest stepson. He watches as Tommy takes a seat and leans his forearms against the table. The younger man's vivid blue eyes are steady and fearless when they meet his stepfather’s gaze. 

“Considerin’ I found the information we’ve been lookin’ for?” Tommy replies rhetorically. “It’s your lucky goddamn day that I’m here,” he finishes with a smirk. 

“You got ‘im to spill?” Jax asks with interest. His brilliant blue eyes connect to his baby brother’s with pride. If there was anyone he knew that could make that Rat reveal everything, it was Tommy. His brother had a special talent in getting people to talk. Whether through conventional or unconventional methods all depended on his mood. 

“I got ‘im to fuckin’ sing,” he replies with a darkly pleased smirk. It’s mirrored by everyone else in the room who know that Tommy is the best at his second, unannounced position in the club, and merely known as the Negotiator, who succeeds at any task put before him. He’s known for  being an organizer , manipulator, diplomat and entertainer, ready to deal with anything and everything, if it meant getting the job done.

“Let’s hear the information then.” Clay says as everyone settles down and listens to the information Tommy has to give. 

**Hours Later**

“Good job baby bro.” Jax says as he claps his younger brother on the shoulder as those in the Chapel finally clear out of the room, after they all finished discussing what needs to be said on recent situations. They all have their new tasks and now what they have to do. 

“Thanks.” Tommy replies with a roll of his eyes and a shove towards Jax as his older brother attempts to give him a noogie. “Fucker,” he laughs as he ducks away from his asshole of an older brother. 

“What?” He laughs in turn as he holds his hands up and a bright playful smirk curls his lips upwards. “I’m just showing you how impressed I am.” Jax replies innocently. 

“Uh huh, right.”

“Are you headin’ out?” Jax asks seriously. His playful attitude falls away like water running out of a drain, as he looks to his baby brother with serious blue eyes. 

Tommy slows to a standstill as he turns to face his older brother. He too becomes more serious as he looks his brother carefully over. He can tell immediately that there’s something on Jax’s mind. It’s the way he stands and how his eyes have darkened. “Not yet,” he responds with a curious expression, “I’m going to head to Mattie and Eliza’s place before I head out.” 

“They causin’ you problems again?” Jax questions with concern. He had never liked his former sister-in-laws. The only good thing those women had ever done, in his very honest opinion, was birthing his nieces and nephews.

Tommy scoffs with a sigh, “Don’t they always?” He replies with a rough hand rubbing his trimmed beard. “Mattie isn’t answerin’ my calls and I haven’t seen the kids since I last had them at the house for the weekend,” Thomas explains to Jax, who listens quietly and with growing anger. “Eliza is bein’ difficult an’ constantly arguin’ with me about seein’ James,” he adds with frustration obvious in his voice. “So, I gotta stop by their places an’ check to make sure everythin’ is okay an’ finally get to see the kids.” 

Jax knows that he’s often overly protective of his baby brother. After nearly losing him to a congenital heart defect at only six years old, his thirteen year old mind had quickly realized just how short life truly is. It led to Jax being more affectionate, understanding, and defensive over Tommy. Not that it stopped him from messing with Tommy, but he was more heedful of his heart and the dangers that came with it, and so he knew the limits that he could fool around with his baby brother. 

“Do you need help checkin’ the places out?” He casually asks Tommy. This would give him a chance to talk to his brother, without concern for prying ears. Jax knows if there’s anyone he could talk to about this, it’s Tommy. 

Tommy looks at Jax with regard. He has a feeling that this is a twofold kind of situation. He knows one of the main reasons Jax wants to go with him is because his ever perceptive big brother is concerned. Jax has always been an overprotective mother hen, especially since his near fatal encounter with Death when he was six. The second reason, Tommy has a hunch, is that Jax wants to speak with him, without any meddlesome ears listening in. 

“I can always use a hand from my older bro,” he finally says with a smile. “With you around to keep the kids distracted, I handle Mattie and Eliza,” Tommy slaps Jax on the shoulder as the pair begins to walk again out of the Clubhouse doors and head to the two Harley Davidson bikes parked beside each other. The Teller brother’s could feel the heavy sensation of eyes watching them, but displayed no outward appearance that they could feel those eyes burning into their backs. Instead, two pairs of blue eyes glance at each other as they settle onto the leather seats of their bikes and kick start their bikes. They pull out of the parking lot at a steady speed, aware that they wouldn’t be speaking just yet. 

**The Whitney-Teller Residence**

A shaky hand reaches out and with a flick of her fingers; water spurts out and fills the sink with cool running water. Cupping her hands together she places them underneath the faucet and silently watches as her cupped hands fill with the cool liquid. Bending forward she tosses the water at her face. Her dark brown eyes close, as her head leans back, and feels the cold droplets slither down her face and neck. Her throat feels parched and dry while her eyes feel like they're burning. The urge is too hard to fight. "Where is it?” She asks her reflection, as if expecting it to respond. Her voice is hoarse and yearning for her desire. 

With a sharp pull away from the counter she begins to harshly look through the cabinets, drawers and cupboards, searching for it, for anything. She barely notices the things inside being tossed around the bathroom, out of her way. She just needs it. She doesn't care how she gets it, as long as she has it.

_ Where is it? Where is it! _ The thoughts continue to rush through her mind as she storms out of the bathroom, not paying attention to the sound of the bathroom door slamming against the wall behind her.  _ Where is it? It has to be around here somewhere? _ The thoughts persist, building with her annoyance. She grumbles darkly underneath her breath, as she searches through the dressers and nightstands in her bedroom. Clothes fly behind her, scattering across the floor and landing upon furniture, as they are carelessly tossed away with her determination.

A harsh hand runs through her greasy hair as she stumbles out of the bedroom and into the hallway, her mind consumed with obsessive thoughts. "Mama? Are you okay?" She freezes, pausing mid-step down the hallway, towards the staircase, at the sound of her oldest son's voice. She turns to look over her pale and frail shoulders, to see her eight-year-old son, John Teller II, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He stares up at her with wide sky blue colored eyes. The same color as her ex-husband and his older brother. 

"Yeah baby, Mommy’s just looking for something,” she reassures her son softly. She bends down on her legs, giving her son a soft, warm smile, while fighting the urge to grind his teeth and pull out his hair. "Why don’t you go play with your siblings?" Matilda “Mattie” Whitney suggests with another smile. "I'll make us all some lunch,” she says with a twitch of her lips. Her hands clench together as she attempts to hide her body's shakes and tremors.

She wants it.  _ Now _ .

"Okay!" Johnny says with a sweet smile. Turning on his heel he quickly runs back into the bedroom. The sound of him and his younger sibling's voices surface through the air and reach her ears. 

Mattie exhales heavily with relief. She stands stiffly back up on her feet and heads back down the hallway towards the kitchen. With a rough hand through her hair, she turns a sharp left, and unsteadily shoves her way past the swinging kitchen door and into the large kitchen. She supposed she and the kids are lucky that Tommy let her have the house when they divorced. She knows he has a second house, bought for with money from his tattoo shop and bar. It probably helps that he’s got  _ friends _ that he helped set up their businesses, for a cut of their profit, and his name as a co-owner. Tommy always had a mind for business and money. It’s probably why he’s such an asset to the Club. 

She doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going on around her or the thoughts racing through her mind, as she rummages and tosses things out of the cupboards and drawers, uncaring of the shattered glassware that makes up the plates, bowls, or food that is strewn across the floor. She’s unaware that the house has become a mess of dirty dishes, trash, and various other health hazards. Mattie’s only concern is the rising frustration that she hasn’t found what she’s looking for, which causes her to storm out of the kitchen. 

Mattie is much like a hurricane as she searches through the dining room, family room, and lastly, the office that Tommy once used, before their divorce. Her dark eyes are intently focused on her search as she rummages through the desk that Tommy no longer uses. “Aha!” She huffs out with a sigh of relief. Her hands pull back, after lifting a small loose board in the back of the desk drawer, and in between her fingers is a small white bag filled with a powdery white substance.

Her hands  _ shake _ with her desire and yearning to consume. Mattie walks over the mess she made in the office and walks quickly down the hallway, past her kids bedroom’s, and towards the Master bedroom. She steps through the double doorway and into the room. She leaves the door open, just so her children are slightly 'watched' and makes her way across the room and into the large bathroom. 

The Master bedroom is a mess. Filled with dirty clothes strewn across the bedroom floor, the bed a rumpled mess, old dirty and moldy dishware on the dressers and nightstands, with various bottles of alcohol and empty chip bags. 

The bathroom door shuts behind her and pulls the innocent little bag filled with white powder out of her back pocket. She was far too impatient to make it any other way at the moment, so snorting it would be the easiest choice. She grabs the small mirror she has in the corner of the bathroom counter, along with one of the straws she has on the counter.

Mattie ignores her aching body for the moment, too concentrated on distributing the powder white substance across the small mirror in front of her. She silently reaches out and grabs a thin razor blade. She uses it to spread nice thin lines of the cocaine before her. Rolling her neck she tries to get the stiffness out as she leans forward. Grabbing the short straw she holds it between her pointer finger and thumb. Placing it a little above the powered substance she uses her other hand to place her thumb against the other side of her nose. With a snort, she takes the line of powder up her nose. She does this another four or five lines more before she feels a change in her body.

The reaction is nearly instantaneous.

Mattie’s breathing begins to feel strange, shallow almost, and her chest aches, like something is squeezing her lungs. The feel of her mouth goes dry and cotton-like, making her feel light-headed. She looks into the mirror and feels disoriented and sleepy. Her pupils are small, unusually small, making them look like the size of a sharpened pencil. She turns, too quickly, and stumbles. Her shoulder hits the wall with a loud crack, making her blink rapidly at being on the floor suddenly. Everything is distorted and spins, making her feel sick. The usual throbbing her shoulder should have felt, isn't there. Her muscles shake as she lets her head drop to the floor. Her eyes slide shut as she clenches her hands into fist and ignores the feeling of falling. Her stomach feels tight, like when her legs cramp up, and the feeling of her muscles spasming is an uncomfortable and nearly excruciating feeling.

Mattie forces her eyes back open, having forgotten she’d closed them and that is why everything is dark. She slowly and painfully tries to crawl to her feet, but sways, as she feels light-headed and dizzy. Her eyes rapidly scan the room, as things seem to distort and transform. Shaking her head with a shudder racking her body, she stumbles over her feet and hits the floor with a 'thump'. Her throat tightens as her tongue goes heavy and dry in her mouth. Her eyes flutter open and shut. Her stomach feels like it's burning and something is twisting and turning inside.

Her head rolls to the side as her hands shakily and hazily brush away the hair from her face. Her arms try to reach out for her cell phone on the bathroom counter, but it is too far away, and she feels so heavy and tired. Mattie’s eyes roll in the back of her head as her body suddenly begins to seize and shakes. Her head leans to the side as she gags out white foam that has risen to the surface of her mouth, nearly choking her, as she throws it up. With next to no energy left in her, she collapses onto the floor and continues to shake with seizures.

* * *

"Mattie?" Tommy Teller calls out as he steps into the entrance hall of the house his first ex-wife lives in with their children. The door is unlocked, and from what he can see from where he stands, it looks like a tornado flew through. 

Jax steps in behind his baby brother and his eyebrows raise at how much of a pigsty the house has turned into. “Damn Tommy,” he murmurs with a shake of his head at garbage littering the house, “What the hell has Mattie been doin’?” 

“I don’t know man,” he replies with a shake of his head. He’s in disbelief at how disgusting this place has become. He doesn’t understand how or why it has, and he’s not sure he wants to. 

“Dad!” Johnny cheers happily, having heard the sound of his father’s voice. His younger siblings, six year old twins Alaric and Samantha, and four year old Layla, quickly follow their brother as he runs out of the bedroom and hugs their father. 

"Hey buddy, shouldn't you be in school?" Tommy asks his oldest child as he crouches down to hug him. 

“Yeah, but Mom didn't feel like taking us today.” Johnny says and before Tommy can respond to that news, he’s assaulted by his other three small children. 

“Daddy!” Alaric, Samantha, and Layla shriek as they tackle their father. 

“Ow! Get off!” Johnny grunts as he squeezes himself out of the pile with a gasping huff. “Hi Uncle Jax!” He greets excitedly with a smile. The doggy pile he was forced momentarily is quickly forgotten when confronted by his favorite Uncle. He also seems unaffected by the chaotic mess that has become his home, as if he’s used to this sort of thing. 

“Hey kid, how you doin’?” Jax greets, as he pulls his nephew into a hug. 

“Okay.” Johnny shrugs like a typical eight-year-old. 

"Where’s your mom?” Tommy asks his oldest son as his arms remain full of his younger three children. Concern blue eyes look around the destroyed house. He recognizes the signs. It only ever gets this bad when Mattie’s on something. It’s one of the numerous reasons he divorced her, besides finding out she’s been fucking other men. 

“I dunno,” Johnny says with a shrug. “I think she’s in the bedroom,” he guesses with the carelessness of a child who trusts his mother to still be presently in the house. 

Tommy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Mattie _must_ be doing drugs again. He remembers how bad she got, when she was pregnant with the twins. He had to forcefully register her into a hospital, in an effort to get her to stop and clean her up. God knows Al and Sammy are the sickest of his kids because of that shit. “Well, Uncle Jax will make you kids something to eat, while I go find mom,” he says and stands from his crouched position. His youngest three children pull away from their daddy to cheerfully greet Jax with hugs and kisses. As his older brother leads his kids into the kitchen, he can hear them excitedly telling Jax what they have been up to since he last saw them. 

“Mattie!?” Tommy calls out as he heads down the hallway and into the master bedroom. His head shakes side to side in disbelief at how disgusting the bedroom is. The whole house reeks of filth and rotting food. His beautiful blue eyes scan the bedroom for signs of Mattie, before landing upon the closed bathroom door, from where he can see a light shining beneath the crack. He noiselessly walks across the room, his boot covered feet hardly making a sound against the carpet. He tries the doorknob, but finds it locked. With a sigh, he steps back and raises his booted left foot and brings it hard against the door. It gives in easily and swings open to slam against the left wall. 

The sight he’s confronted with stuns him for a moment. Tommy can see from where he stands in the doorway, that white foam had drizzled out of the side of her mouth. Her chocolate brown eyes, which are usually full of life, are instead glazed and glassy, as if the light has left them. Mattie’s once usually lightly tanned skin is a deathly pale color. Her skin shines from sweat and not bathing for days at a time. Her long brown hair sticks to her forehead and neck, and is a greasy mass of knots and dirt. Her chest is motionless, as if the air caught in her last breath and didn’t continue onto the next, that has Tommy coming to the realization that his ex-wife may be  _ dead _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, Tommy has been getting strange "dreams" or "nightmares" about his past life, but he doesn't think anything of them, not yet anyway. It won't be until later that things really start happening.
> 
> Reviews and kudos are always appreciated. XD

**Author's Note:**

> As always, reviews or kudos are appreciated, to get your thoughts on the story. XD
> 
> Also, for any fans of my other stories, the next stories to be updated will be Eminent Supremacy, I Feed My Monster Deep Inside, Memory Of Those Eyes, and What Could Have Been.


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